Sunday, January 30, 2011

The obedient thing cried at the precise second. It doesn't care if we are up after
a two-day weekend or a longer holiday. It makes for the lack of a dog...faithful to
a fault... sun or rain in sickness and health, the nasty thing is the only body in
this whole universe who gets away by yelling at us each morning.

We let it cry, then scream and later screech...before the husband drags himself out
and I prepare to follow.

My routine began with no change in script on January the 30th. I tossed, turned,
kicked away the blanket, upped my senses to feel my back...'yeah, I'm here', I felt
the sore swear. Got up, stretched, waited to hear the other...'yes I'm here', it
creaked. My neck, thankfully, alive over my shoulders I decided to get on with my
robotic early morning activities...before I dash off to work.

To my surprise, I felt energetic for a change. Dismissed it as first week-day
blues, I set about packing breakfast for my little one. But the morning was
determined to indeed surprise me...warm thoughts of my family began surfacing, then
quickly established themselves within me.

Soon I felt like exercising, usually the urge hits only after a heavy meal. Never
in my lifetime did it visit me early morning. Wow! I was amused and began humming.
It was only a little later when the clock stopped ticking, or so I thought, did I
realise my rendering was pretty loud... a song!

Anyways it's just the early beginning of another long five-day week, I cautioned
myself before stepping out. And lo! I found a spring in my steps. What's
happenning? I wondered. I let the weather take the credit and hopped into the car.
There my driver, who usually picks on me for being a sleepy head, quipped 'you look
fresh'!

Now, this was more than I could comprehend. Nevertheless, I thanked him for the
compliment and decided to mentally compose a poem - 'An ode to myself'.

Lost in my verse, at first I thought I was imagining my lines. Then looked without
blinking...and it still was there high up in the sky...a celestial wonder! A bright
dazzling star very close to the crescent moon. Incredibly lovely a couple!

The captivating serenity I could not hold for long as I had to walk into my office.

This is the first time I've seen anything like this - a divine romance. Does it
hold any significance? Probably, I heard them whisper.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

"Tomorrow is a holiday," announced my nine-year old as I returned home from work
yesterday. "So I'll watch the new Rapunzal DVD."

"First watch the morning news to see the parade," I started off enthusiastically eager
to tell her all about the floats, awards and the rest, only to be dismissed with a casual
"but we are going for the Republic Day celebrations on Friday, then why do you want
me to wake up at 7?"

Alas! she's a product of the weekend-paranoid Gulf culture!

It's almost two decades since I last saluted the tricolour, but each time I hear the
words Independence Day or Republic Day I break out in goose bumps. Watching the
parade on TV was the morning ritual on the 26th. Then off to school... march past,
flag-hoisting and sweets distribution are all so fresh still. We never waited to return
home from school on such days when there were no classes...pelting stones at
tamarind trees and attendants shooing us away, staying in the loo until the driver tired
of honking left us behind, and then taking the longest of routes to reach home,
walking down by the level crossing, just because of the don't-take-the-railroad-route-
if-you-miss-the-school-bus warning...the only part we hated was rewriting the
previous year's essay.

The significance of hating some things in childhood is only beginning to see light
now in the desert. Sad, kids here do not have a chance of doing anything different in
school. All school days are just school days.

Teaching them to sing the National Anthem while hoisting the flag is, indeed, great.
But the pride is missing. Little ones should get that chill down thier young spines
when they see the tricolour go up. In the absence of the pratriotic mood that engulfs
the streets of India on the two historic days, educational institutions here must make
this a working day and offer students a different experience. One that will over the
years turn them into proud Indians. Hold competitions, stage plays on patriotic
themes, dress different, prepare for this day in advance which will help them get into
the mood... rather than an adhoc flag-hoisting session.

No doubt patriotism in India is painted in new colours every year, thanks to some
fanaticians, but children there get to feel the vibrancy. Or at least have political
commotions that erupt with clock-like precision to remember when they grow up,
unlike expat kids who believe only in two days and no dates.

Well, can we blame them? All their birthdays by default fall on the weekends.

P.S. Got an invite. A regional association is celebrating Republic Day on Friday,
January 28th.

Now let me get this right. A baby boomer is a person who was born immediately after
the Second World War, ie, all those born in 1950s and early 60s. Hey, I've got a
new name for my parents...let that be.

Apparently the survey has found that majority of these boomers are unhappy today
because their expectations as teenagers have not yet been achieved. And wanna know
what their expectations were?

Thirty per cent thought flying cars would be a reality; 23% expected human robots
to be common by the time they retire; 40% expectd a cure for cancer; 21% believed
poverty and hunger would be eliminated...Gosh, how foolish!

Guess it's not their fault. 'Cos their parents would have been busy fighting, no
not the war, I know, its after-effects and so probably would not have been in the
right frame of mind while creating them. Imagine the anxiety and confusion of
grandpas and grandmas becoming a source of income for 21st century employees! Need
to unravel this one...but later.

Who, in the first place, asked these boomers to let their imagination run riot?
Worse still hold on to them for six long decades and expect youth of today to
postpone their career plans for them? Now I understand why they are called the
self-indulgent generation.

Cooked up crazy ideas in their heads and waited for decades to see them
materialise. Weren't they told teenage is the craziest of periods in one's life?

But yes, I need to be fair...18% of them expected an end to war. Which war? Did
they foresee (given that the mentioned survey was conducted in the US) all the wars
that followed in other continents subsequent to the World War II? If so, let's ask
them about the next one...I need to have my bag ready.

Genes progenerate... Did I read something about it somewhere? I'll look up this
one, definitely.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Caught a few minutes of Screen Awards last night and it left me wondering how I'll
be a few decades from today. Definitely not like them, nor do I want to be like any
other for sure...too individualistic an I is inside me. You know? I(t) will rebel.

But we both agree mutually and honestly that the three ladies impressed and
inspired us beyond words can express.

Rekha, Hema Malini and Shabana Azmi - wow! simply amazing!

All those critics who talk of Rekha's eyes being pulled and forehead being shot or
was it short of Botox, whatever, and tucks being hidden behind yards of
Kanchipuram...can take a walk. She's the ultimate diva of Indian cinema! Shayari or
verse, in English, Urdu or Hindi, the lady speaks the way each needs to be spoken.
Glad the zealots accept that. No more do we hear of the South Indian actress tag
spat in ugly glue!

But wonder how many lifespans Hema Malini will need to learn to twirl her tongue!
Couple of lines were Tamilish for sure, the rest was Hindi wrapped in something...I
need to Google it. But who cares, at 60-plus she continues to be the dreamgirl of
Indians. She is the only Bollywood old-timer who seems to have maintained her
figure, so effortlessly shall I say? Definitely it's all those classical
performances she's passionate about that keeps her a class apart.

But classes apart and zillions at that is Shabana Azami. Beauty she never was nor
is; but she is one woman who has aged gracefully. Think of her body of work, no
ugly thoughts here... more of those sans grease paint...doesn't it reflect her
inner radiance? Am a bit partial here for I love women who speak their mind and
fluently at that and in polished dialects and on most subjects... well, I'll
mention no more. Am not an opiniated person yet, you see...

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Thought long and hard...what should my first post be? If I am to address netizens, I don't know their language; if I am to communicate with journos then I better log off; if I am to share my daily diary in here, sorry I don't believe in public nudity!

I will be me.

Yes, whenever I get that irresistible feel, or see that invisible call and putting them down becomes inevitable...I'll sign in.

It took me ages (by tech standards) to realise blogging is not notorious a stimulation.

So I'm fearlessly making this the courtyard of my dreams, to help you take a peek into my heart and hear that tinkling voice ring inside you!

But I will be me. Always. So if the tinkling, at times, seems to be loud rattle then just plug your ears and continue reading...